


make a mess

by proto_typ3



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Flirting, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Roughness, Sort Of, cayde is mentioned once or twice but he's uh, first time between them, idk how much of a relationship it could count for, in relation to him, some realization of feelings sprinkled in there, unrealistic and out of character if im honest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 00:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20321884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proto_typ3/pseuds/proto_typ3
Summary: A loose cannon of a hunter gets pulled in by a rogue and his many promises.





	make a mess

**Author's Note:**

> am i posting this at midnight? yes.  
this was written long before i had a solid idea for Harker, it just took this long to edit into a state that i felt satisfied with. this was also before i decided they'd both be trans, but it was too much to rewrite at that point. take this as a sort of au for my own work ig  


“Hey now, easy.” The Drifter cocked an eyebrow at the man as he walked up to him, a weight in his steps. Harker was his name, could never remember the rest of it. “I saw you out there. You fight dirty, I like it.” He slapped him on the arm as he handed over a new gun. Reward for a particularly good match hours prior. 

“The game is dirty. That's why _ I _like it.” He took the gun and shoved it into a belt on his side with the fabric still wrapped around it. He lingered, straightening the clothing around it so it was mostly hidden. 

“Not gonna transmat it?”

“Outta storage, Ghost’s mad at me for hoarding.” He laughed to himself.

“Wanna come in the back and reorganize?” He leaned towards him, arms crossed and a look in his eyes. Harker took the bait easily, willingly. 

“Sure.” He smiled, eyes narrow, mirroring Drifter’s face. He flicked a coin up and caught it, nodding a bit as he did so. 

“Back here.” He led the man behind several banners and curtains, then a bend in the alleyway. 

His living space was simple, barely more than a closet space. He still lived in a goddamn alley after all. A bed was shoved into the corner and another desk lay strewn with parts. Shelves hung on every wall, large objects covered in sheets Harker couldn't quite define littered the floor. 

“And I thought I was disorganized.” He muttered to himself. Harker’s ghost, a dark, brooding little thing, dropped into existence.

“It's crappy, but it's home.” The words sang painful songs in his head, one side of himself laughing at the parallels. Drifter held his arms out before sweeping off his desk. “Have a seat.” Harker noted that he offered him an actual seat, while Drifter himself drew up a crate to sit on. How hospitable.

Harker's ghost started to transmat in a figurative vault load of guns, muttering to itself in code. The moment Drifter's ghost peeked up and started to scan the items, he flinched away from the unnerving thing his ghost was. 

He lifted an old hand cannon out of the mix and let it weigh heavy in his hands. It was the gun he has brought with him on his last mission with Cayde. Still had a few bullets in it. Cayde's own Ace of Spades had replaced it, though Harker felt shameful even wearing the damned gun on his hip. He knocked out the extra ammo and transmatted it away, handing the old gun to Drifter.

“Want this one? Saw Cayde's death.” His voice was flat, even a bit pained if you listened close enough. The gun _ left _ by Cayde, on the other hand, was still holstered on his thigh, it’s famous spade shaped insignia covered by some fabric tucked in with it. He had hardly used it since he got it fixed up by Banshee. 

“Love a gun with a story.” He took it from his hands, grabbing it by the barrel. “Common model, though.” 

“How much it’d dismantle for?”

“Twenty, thirty glimmer.” He shrugged. Harker let the gun transmat away, fully intact. “Ohohoh, you got a _ Telesto _ and you don't use it?” 

“I've never been able to figure out pulse rifles, really. Been waiting for someone to give it to, or someone to trade it for something good.” 

“And?” 

“I don't know why you'd want it.” He deadpanned. He caught his own ghost rolling it's eye at him, muttering something along the lines of “idiot.”

“Got good parts in it. The way it holds and charges it's magazine is pretty unique.” There was a pause between them, Harker giving him a hard once over that Drifter could _ feel _ as he looked over the gun’s detailing.

“You let every other passing guardian in your place?”

“Can't say I do.” He set one of his larger sniper rifles against the wall to free up some space on the desk. 

“What's so special about me. then?” His ghost clicked and disappeared, Drifters ghost doing similarly.

“Not sure really.” He squinted at a gun, turning it in the light, then looked Harker in the eye. “Why’d you accept?”

“Bored.” He shrugged, leaning on the desk and keeping his eyes steady. “Flattery gets you everywhere.” 

“Can't tell if you're thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, man. Not good with the reading faces thing.” He lied through his stupid grin. Harker couldn't say he was an ugly liar, as Drifter’s eyes raked over him. 

“Let me try something, then we’ll know, how about that?” He _ lived _ for this game. Hunter’s across the board played it with their own rivalries that ran deeper than what met the eye. He had played it before, a nightstalker in some shady bar. They ended up renting a room for two nights in a row. 

“I'm all ears.” The glint in his eye pushed him to put a hand on his thigh and a fist in his collar, pulling them flush together in a firm kiss, but not digging. He still wanted a safety net, as thin as it may be. Harker pulled away, eyes half lidded, waiting for a response.

“I think we’re thinkin’ the same thing.” He laughed, thrown off by a second kiss, infinitely more intense as the first. “Aren't you just full of spit and vinegar.” Drifter put a hand on his waist, one on his thigh, thumb close to his crotch and chased that feeling again. Harker chuckled against him, twisting him against the desk to pry deeper with his tongue. Drifter fought with teeth and nails, biting his lips and digging into his waist, but was still surprisingly happy to get pressed against his own desk. Harker was happy to get a fire going between them. Drifter’s hands were the first to grab below the belt, taking advantage of how Harker moved to straddle his waist. He cut off the moan with a chuckle, grinding down on him pointedly.

There was a long stretch of time where they said nothing, the only sound filling the room was some hard breaths and an occasional gasped moan from either of them. 

“Would it inflate your ego any more to say how much I like your voice in my ear during gambit?” He tugged on him by the collar, voice low against his ear.

“Oh, I think it just might.” He breathed, palming at his crotch. Even with the thick fabric he could feel the bulge there, hard and straining for release.

“How I just get you _ going _sometimes.” He ground down roughly on him, the first real movement from his side of it. “Can hardly fucking stand it.” It knocked his hand out of the way and they were grinding on each other with nothing but fabric between them.

“Haha-” He swallowed, choking back the noise in his throat. “I could tell you liked it.” He teased. They’d long since been shooting less than aproprotate phrases back and forth across their personal signals, Harker hearing Drifter fall apart more than once, leaving him distracted for the rest of the day. Honestly, he should've seen this coming.

“Really now?” He took a bit of a dive and pulled at the cloth around his neck, pulling it down to kiss his neck. “Ever think I would fuck you over it?” 

“It was a fantasy I indulged in, sure, but who's fuckin’ who here?” He squeezed his ass.

“Who asked me into their backroom?” He nibbled at his neck.

“Who gave me half their guns?” 

“Who's hard as a rock under me?” Drifter opened his mouth and started to say something but Harker cut him off with a biting kiss, leaving his lips raw. “How comfy is that bed back there?” 

“Serves me well.” He was already trying to find the clasps in his armor. Harker pressed a kiss under his jaw, liking the feel of his short beard, and abruptly got off of him. The gun he held with a limp wrist made Drifter start. _ His _gun. Harker had pulled the gun out from his goddamn pants. 

“Put that shit down.” He chased after it, but the guardian handed it to him easily, the business end pointing towards himself. Drifter took it and transmatted it away in a flash. “Little shit, who taught you to steal a man's gun?” He pulled him in by a belt loop.

“Who taught you to keep a loaded hand cannon pointed _ directly _ at your dick?” He squeezed his ass. “Doing you a favor, really.”

“Never shot my own dick off in all the lives I’ve lived.” Drifter was still tugging at him, as Harker was to him.

“I don't believe you if I’m honest.”

“Most don't.” And they were kissing again, hungry. Drifter pulled at him like an old habit, while Harker was struggling not to buck against him too noticeably. The sheer amount of _ touching _ was making him lose it. The _ violence _of it all was scratching some long put off itch. Drifter, hesitant to make it worth anything, was happy with his little distraction.

Drifter fell backwards into bed with a grunt, taking Harker down with him. Then they started _ really _ pulling at clothing. Drifter unbuckled a small knife-belt from his thigh and held it up like a trophy before dropping it off the side of the bed. Harker couldn't lie that he tensed up at that, vulnerability washing over him, but he pushed it away as best he could. They were already in bed together, there wasn’t much point in trying to kill each other if it arised. Harker was pushing his robes off his shoulders, finding more layers than he expected. Belt after belt frustrated him more and more until he gave up fully on his top half, moving to tug at his pants. 

“Defeated by a few extra layers, guardian?” He cocked a brow.

“If you shut _ up _, I’ll go down on you.”

“Ah- hm.” He considered it, letting Harker follow through with unzipping his fly and pulling his painfully hard cock out. “You look pretty like this.” He teased, hand tensing in his hair as he swiped over the tip with his thumb. 

“Never met a man like you that didn't want his dick sucked.” He looked up at him, a teasing sparkle in his eye.

“Oh, come _ on _.” He strained against him. Harker seemed satisfied with the result and opened his mouth a fraction, swirling his tongue around the tip. Drifter struggled to keep his breathing even. His favorite guardian, right on top of him. He’d be mad if he said he’d want anything less.

“Oh, you're _ real _ pretty like this.” He pulled his head to the side gently, finding him surprisingly pliant with his hand tracing his scalp. Harker took a steadying breath before slowly taking his cock in his mouth, reveling in how Drifter’s thighs tensed. He came off with a twist, having just barely taken him more than half way. Harker looked up at him with a smile, licking his lips. “Oh, _ jesus. _” He bobbed his head down again, lips brushing the base and lingering. When he swallowed around him, Drifter squirmed. Harker came off again with a smirk. 

“I've hardly done anything.” 

“Shut up- hng-” He went down and Drifter’s hips twitched up, making him gag and pull away.

“Ass.” He croaked, wiping his mouth.

“Sorry.” His grip in his hair went soft. “You got a _ real _ nice mouth.” Harker got on his knees on top of him leaned back, undoing the straps on his gloves and pulling one off with his teeth, liking how Drifter looked at him. _ God _, he liked how he looked at him. 

“Keep sweet talking me and I might just have to fuck you.” He said with a small laugh, throwing his gloves to the side. Drifter made a sound under him, a grumble, almost, as he tried to figure out how the straps on his pants work. Harker guided his hands. He found a clasp at his side and tugged off the chest piece. Harker managed to get the picture. His armor was discarded bit by bit in a pile by his bed until he was left in just his undershirt and leggings. Drifter hiked up his shirt and found scars across his back and sides. His other hand traced up his chest and found the same texture. Too many scars. 

“You’ve… seen a lot of action.” He said softly, but not quite in the emotional sense. Just sensitive, quiet, not sad.

“Hardly remember any of it.” He said it offhandedly, like he had said it a million times. He pulled the shirt over his head and was pulled down into a kiss with his arms still half-pinned behind him. “Didn't think you were soft, Drifter.” He said against his lips as he dropped his shirt. 

“ ‘m not.” He started to push up himself, twisting to get at belts and layers of his own clothing. Harker took the time to get up, let him move easier, and pull off his leggings with a hint of bashfulness. Drifter’s eyes flicked to him for a moment. A solid once over, but nothing like he was _ trying. _ A subtle twitch in his mouth told more of a story. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

That man must've had three separate coats. Harker never got close enough to really tell, but now that they were breathing down each others throats, he wondered how he survived the summers in the tower. He was wrapped up like he had been cold all his life. The thought made something soft sprout in his mind, something he shooed away quickly. When Harker’s bare hand pressed against Drifter’s bare chest, the thought grew angry. Harker was _ angry _ that he thought Drifter was so pretty. He was just barely getting soft where muscle would be, a mess of hair all over him. He had his scars, but they were mostly fading save for a few deeper cuts and craters. The fact his necklace stayed on nearly drove him insane. A little green coin on a red string, like the ones he flashed before Gambit matches, though more ornate. Two interlocking snakes. To vent his anger, he pulled at it, making him follow as to not break the string or hurt himself. They both melted into a kiss, Harker smoothing his hands over skin, grinding against him in the slightest way, straddling his thighs just so. 

“Have I told you how sexy you look?” Drifters words made him stutter. “I'm just some old bastard, but you're a fucking _ sight _.” 

“Shut up.” He pressed him down, pushing a wheeze out of him. “Now I’d be surprised if you don't have lube of all things.” He tried to laugh. 

“Top drawer.” He folded one knee up and fixed the pillows behind him. Harker felt like he was burning, Drifter’s eyes were- intentionally or otherwise- burning lines into his skin as he stretched over to rustle through the drawer. “Should be a lil’ bottle- there you go.” Harker squeezed a good amount into his hand and stroked himself a few times before pressing the remaining slick between Drifter’s cheeks. He would've made some complaint about it being cold, but was so caught up in Harkers hands on him that he forgot it entirely. That hand left him for a moment making his hips twitch to follow, but returned with more lube and an eagerness to get this thing going. 

“Ah- _ mm _ -” Drifter choked out a sound as he pressed his fingers in, working him a bit too fast. With a bit of maneuvering, Harker leaned down to kiss him. He pretended like he just wanted him quiet, but found himself moaning into the kiss, lost in how _ good _ he sounded. “Just- goddammit-” He grunted, a hand tangling in his short hair. 

“Mmm…” He hummed into his neck as his kisses trailed down to his collarbone.

“Get the fuck on with it.” He gasped, hardly meeting his eyes. That connection would be too much, too intimate. The contrast was ironic.

“Alright.” There was a half-assed tease in his voice as Harker pressed the head of his dick between his cheeks before plunging in halfway. 

“Fuck- fuck, okay, that was a bad idea.” Drifter hissed. 

“Patience is a virtue.” He smirked, leaning down close to his face. Drifter opened his mouth looking like he was about to bite his nose off, but Harker thrust forward sharply enough to cut him off. The rogue bit down on nothing but a moan as the hunter pressed himself flush. He almost looked proud. Harker leaned away and threw his shoulders back, a grin on his face. Scratch that, he was filled with so much goddamn pride that Drifter wanted to shoot him dead for it. Maybe that’d finally knock some sense into the hunter. 

“F-fuck.” He gasped, still adjusting to his size as Harker wiggled his hips. 

“Like that?” He pulled out slowly, a grin on his face.

“God- just shut up and fuck me.” Harker leaned down to kiss his neck, then his lips. He opened his mouth to say something, but changed his mind, giving a shallow thrust into the man under him. 

Harker hiked his legs up a bit, mostly just to reaffirm his grip and get his eyes off his face. It was too much to look at his face, even if he looked like he was _ glowing _like this. He kicked up the pace sharply, taking pride in how easily he could make Drifter writhe. A strong hand dug into Harker’s arm, a leg hooking around his waist trying to get him closer. The hunter couldn’t help but groan against him, lips against his jaw. Drifter tried to hold back what sounds he could, even if he was on his back underneath him.

“Fuck.” Harker gasped, trying not to meet his own end too soon. 

“What are you doing slowing down for?” He grumbled, trying to twist his hips. 

“_ Ah _-” The desperation tipped him off. 

“Oh-” He cut off any snarky comment by wrapping a free hand around his dick and pumping, fast and hard. “Bastard.” He gasped.

“Fucker.” He wheezed, thrusting deep. It all turned into gasps and cut off moans. Drifter was caught between trying to thrust back onto him and drawing this out as long as he could, though his hips were already doing the former. He left enough scratches and hickies on the hunter that he’d almost hope he wouldn't kiss and tell. Harker played dirty, leaving marks just high enough so his robes wouldn't cover them, all the while making those muted sounds in his ear. It was driving him mad, breath stalling in his throat.

Drifter came with a hard stroke across the head of his cock, the sound making Harker finish moments later with a cry. It was hot and sweaty between them, coming down from highs they didn't quite realize. The tension knitted into both of their shoulders melted off as the hunter landed heavily next to him, propped up by an elbow. He was still pressing a kiss into Drifter’s neck when he shifted in place. 

“That was nice.” He grumbled, humor in his voice as he rubbed a bruise forming on his hip. Harker laughed a wheezing laugh against his skin.

“Want me to go?” Drifter’s hand was already pulling him closer, and he could see that glint in his eye. Harker wanted to hear him say it. The mysterious, tough as nails Drifter, wanting him to _ stay. _“I don’t mind.” He smiled a bit.

“Heh.” He wrapped his arms around him, somehow still distant. “Still have Gambit to run, ends at nine.” 

“Should I warm the bed for you?” He joked, spreading his hands over his chest.

“Nah, come back later. If you want more, that is.” He grinned, lips brushing his. He deepened it for a moment before letting him up, trying to find his pants. 

Drifter’s eyes washed over him again. He’d never seen such density of scars. Hive claws, bullets, swords, shock grenades. It was like he’d lived through too much, that he kept too much with him. He had seen it before in the tension in his shoulders, his rage in battle. One of the more faded scars ran clean up his spine, surgical, crossing under one perpendicular across his lower back, most likely a hive blade with how it’s edges creeped. Another wrapped around his ribcage, and when he stretched, he swore he could see indents in the bones themselves. He almost asked about it again, but skin disappeared under clothes, then that under armor. He noticed, hazily, that he was a bit sloppy this time, hands fumbling and leaving some loose ends undone. Drifter got himself back together as well, whipping most of the mess on a sheet before balling it up and throwing it in a bin across the room. 

“Ah, almost forgot these.” He found that knife belt half pushed under the bed and held it up to Harker. If he knew one thing, it was to never let a hunter go without their knives.

“Thanks.” He said lowly, strapping it to his thigh and checking the blade. Sharp, curved, almost ornate. He flipped it in the air and slotted it back away. Drifter used his proximity to pull him into a kiss one last time. He was a bit softer this time, melting into it as they traded motion.

“Ain’t going soft now, are ya’?” He asked, a cockiness in his eyes.

“ ‘Course not.” He smiled. “I’ll be back around nine.”

And they went their separate ways. Harker joined the second round after that, noticing a bit of a limp and a wince as Drifter walked onto the platform above his transmat zone. He grinned under his helmet, face flushing hot.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments always appreciated ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿


End file.
